


How Could I Forget?

by ohmymangum



Category: Sherlock (TV), Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 13:51:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/419618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmymangum/pseuds/ohmymangum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson wakes up one morning and some of his memory is gone. He can't remember anything that happened to him within the past year, and can't seem to put his finger on why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the story will be in John's POV. If at some point it's not, I'll be sure to mention it. The chapters of this story are probably going to be pretty short. This one has 520 words.

The first thing I remember hearing that morning was the sound of birds chirping in the tree outside my window.

I used to love waking up to birds when I was in the army. It meant that I had survived the night. But now they’re just a nuisance. I’d say I could live without them, but once you say something like that, you’ll usually regret it later, so I won’t.

I got out of bed and walked through the sitting room and into the kitchen to brew some coffee.

I stopped in the doorway and turned back into the sitting room. The room was how I – barely – remembered it, but it was very cluttered. On the desk were piles of books – the room was covered in them, really. Everywhere I looked, there were strange items that I had no use for and didn’t remember buying.

I tried to think back to see if I could recall buying strange wall decorations and books with titles I couldn’t even pronounce, but I came up with nothing. The more I thought, actually, the more I realised I didn’t remember much about anything.

What happened last night? Where did I go, who did I see? Why is my flat such a mess?  _Why don’t I remember anything?_

I shook my head and rubbed my eyes.  _I must just be tired. Yes, that’s it. I didn’t get enough sleep. I walked back towards the kitchen. Wait, what time_ did  _I go to sleep last night?_

As I faced the kitchen, I sighed. It, too, was a mess. Microscopes and Petri dishes sat on the table, waiting for – well, I didn’t exactly know what they were waiting for, but they must have been in my kitchen for a reason.

Deciding not to worry about it until after I got my coffee, I walked over to the cupboard and opened it. Instead of seeing the jar of coffee beans that I had anticipated, I was faced by two shelves full of jars containing God-knows-what.

I slowly closed the door to the cupboard and chose to look for the coffee beans elsewhere. I glanced onto the counter below the cupboard and there they were, sitting next to the coffee pot in plain sight.

I rubbed my eyes again.  _Oh, God. What is wrong with me?_

As the coffee brewed, I walked to the refrigerator to get some milk.

There wasn’t any.

I slammed the refrigerator door shut, tired with how terribly this day was going so far. Suddenly, the coffee pot beeped and I nearly jumped out of my socks. “Jittery, too,” I mumbled. “How much worse can this day get?”

I grabbed the coffee pot and started to pour it into my mug. Somehow, I missed the cup and spilled most of the coffee onto my pyjama shirt.

“Agh!” I groaned, throwing the pot onto the counter. Stomping back into my bedroom, I removed the shirt and threw it into the wash.

I quickly dressed myself and went down the steps to get the paper, hoping I wouldn’t be hit by a car while crossing the street.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat concerned about his state and sudden loss of his memory, John decides to visit a nearby doctor's office. However, John doesn't think that the doctor will be much help to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still in John's POV. 479 words.

“John Watson?”

I looked up from my magazine I was reading and saw a nurse standing in the doorway.

“That’s me,” I said, and set the magazine onto the table next to me. I stood up and followed the nurse down a long hallway and into a small patient room.

“The doctor will be right with you,” she smiled, though I knew she was lying.

I smiled anyway, though, and she left the room, shutting the door behind her.

I sighed and looked around the room. It was nothing new, in comparison to all other patient rooms. I hopped up onto the padded bench and sat, quietly waiting for the doctor to enter.

Surprisingly only a few minutes later, the doctor entered, holding a clipboard – like you always see doctors holding but never get to know what’s on it.

“So John,” he said. No hello? “What can I help you with? I rarely see you anymore, so it must be something substantial.”

I smirked, then nodded. Rubbing the back of my head, I said, “Yeah…I just…something doesn’t seem right. With my head.”

I could tell the doctor was trying not to smile. “What do you mean?”

“I’m having a hard time remembering things. Not my name, or anything like that,” I tried to explain.

“Well, what don’t you remember?” he interrupted, suddenly getting serious. He looked as though he thought I was showing signs of early onset Alzheimer’s.

I shrugged. “Last night, for starters. I have no idea where I was or what happened. I mean I guess that’s not that bizarre, but don’t you think I’d remember  _something_?” I started to rub my leg nervously with my hand. It’s a habit that I really need to break. It began when…when…huh. “I also don’t remember buying things that are in my flat…it’s a mess, and I don’t know where half of my belongings came from. Or if they’re even  _my_  belongings at all.”

The doctor nodded, jotting some words down onto his clipboard. “I see.” He looked up at me. “Well, we’ll want to make sure everything is okay up there medically. And if there isn’t, then  _that’s_  when we’ll look into something being awry mentally.”

I nodded, though I highly doubted that I was insane. The doctor seemed to be rather smug with that notion, though.

He wrote something more on a slip of paper. Holding it out to me, he said, “This is a slip to get a CT scan at St. Bart’s tomorrow. Just give this to the receptionist, and –”

“Thanks,” I interrupted this time, taking the paper. “But I know what to do to get a CT scan.”

The doctor looked surprised as I walked out the door. He must have forgotten that I was a doctor myself, but I forgave him. He’s not the only one who’s been forgetting things as of late.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After leaving the doctor's office, John runs into an interesting man. They don't introduce one another, but John thinks the man somehow seems vaguely familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John's POV. 478 words.  
> I don't even know with the end of this chapter.

I stood around waiting for a taxi for almost fiften minutes when I finally gave up and decided to walk home. It was only ten minutes by cab, how long could it possibly take on foot?

I started to walk home and thought about what the doctor had said. I knew that he didn’t really think anything was ‘medically’ wrong with me (as he called it). But of course, he didn’t want to call me crazy to my face. So he humoured me.

How kind.

 _He’s probably laughing it up with his nurse right now,_  I thought.  _‘John Watson, the military doctor who lost his mind.’_

I stared at the sidewalk as I stomped home, walking quickly and not paying attention to where I was going. Suddenly I felt my shoulder bump into someone else’s and heard a thud afterwards. I looked over to my left and saw a man whose groceries were now all over the pavement.

“I am so sorry,” I said, kneeling down to help him pick up his things.

He shook his head. “No, don’t worry about it,” he said in an unexpectedly deep voice.

I picked up a loaf of bread and two apples from the sidewalk and held them out to him. As he put them one by one into his paper bag, I noticed that there was something familiar about him. His hair was a medium brown and his bright eyes were coloured with mixes of blues and greens. With eyes as strange as those, you’d think he’d be hard to forget. But can you blame me for not remembering him in my current state?

Once everything was picked up and brushed off, we both stood up in unison.

“I’m really sorry about that,” I apologised again.

He smiled and I couldn’t help but return it. It was a beautiful smile, though I could tell he didn’t do it very often – he didn’t seem comfortable in it.

“No worries. Thank you.” He adjusted the two bags in his arms. “Have a nice day,” he added before walking away.

“You’re welcome,” I said, turning around to watch him walk away. We had only met for a couple of minutes (barely) but he was…certainly something.

I smiled again to myself as I thought about his eyes, and his hair, and those cheekbones…

Wait, what am I  _thinking?_  I’m not gay…right? I don’t remember so, but then again, what does that matter?

I groaned and threw my hands onto my head. “Why?” I said to the sky. From the corner of my eye, I saw a couple walking by look at me confused, or scared, or whatever. After separating my hands from my head and throwing my arms down at my sides, I sent a bitter glance their way and they hurried along.

Sighing, I stuffed my hands into my pockets and sulked home.


End file.
